


Three Lies

by TideInTideOut



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Adventure, Angst/ish, Are you my mother? - Freeform, Multi, Other tags may be added as we go, Rating May Change, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:53:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25519105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TideInTideOut/pseuds/TideInTideOut
Summary: As Masinian Cadirus lay dying, he begged his son not to look for his mother. The boy solemnly agreed – the first lie of consequence he would ever tell.
Relationships: Male Dovahkiin/Non DB OC (M), Non DB OC (M)/Non DB OC (M)/Non DB OC (F)





	1. Out of the Woods

**Author's Note:**

> The first bit is a mite short. Open to suggestions, questions, comments, but not bashing. Enjoy.

"I don't _hate_ the cold, Daxus, I just _acclimated_ to the climate of Cyrodiil. I'm not even sure if I was _born_ in Skyrim, much less if I'm _supposed_ to like the weather _here_."

Daxus snorted and rolled his eyes, mimicking his exasperated companion's use of emphasis, "You _could_ have fooled me, Nir, but for how you _chatter_ your _teeth_ when we _pass_ into the _shade_."

Hefaknir leveled a look at Daxus that seemed wilting and unbelieving at the other man's mockery of his discomfort and mannerisms, as if this was the ultimate insult he had been paid on top of this already miserable hike through the woods.

Daxus laughed deep from his chest at the half-blood Nord's expression, and the previous look of exasperation melted away into relief. Hefaknir was pleased he was not alone in this, needling as Daxus could be.

Shaking mud and muck and Mara-knows-what-else from their boots, the men passed out of the shaded heavy pines of Falkreath and into the crisp sun that magnified the plains of Whiterun. Hefaknir released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and set his hands on his hips, stance wide and inviting to the mellow-heated rays that ended their journey upon his skin. Daxus kicked a nearby stump twice to prod any snakes out from the area before sitting down heavily and resting his elbows on his legs. He tossed his helm to the side and raked his hands through his close-cropped hair, kneading the exhaustion from his scalp and neck from the ridiculously hard pace Hefaknir was driving them at.

Despite that, Hefaknir barely seemed winded as he enjoyed the sun more than Daxus supposed a Nord would. It wouldn't be the first anomalous thing about his childhood friend and, upon seeing the strangely stern expression rested about Hefaknir's brow as the man surveyed his Father Land, he supposed it wouldn't be the last.

Turning his head and not seeing Daxus within reach, Hefaknir faced him and the expression was gone, replaced with the more usual beaming smile and dancing green eyes, boyishly excited for something he couldn't seem to articulate to Daxus since they started this journey. Nord he may be in visage, but this man was half Imperial, the only son of Masinian Cadirus, and Daxus often found himself vexed in strange ways when Hefaknir seemed to thrum with the charisma of an Emperor.

"Are we going to be _seeing_ your lunch again?"

Well. Until he opened his mouth, anyway.

Daxus lobbed his helm at Hefaknir's chest, leather meeting iron and then dirt with unceremonious thuds.

"Not all of us are built for bludgeoning uphill through the woods, you great ox." Hefaknir shook his head and bent to pick up the helm before moving behind Daxus' seat to stow it in the Imperial's pack. 

"It's _no_ different than any other _forced_ march we've been in. Except for.. _well_..the lack of _command_ and _soldiers_ I guess."

Daxus rolled his eyes before casting wary sweeps across the plains they faced.

"I wasn't fond of those, either. I scout to find the best way through for the rest of you beasts, not trudge my ass through a gods-damned hill."

Hefaknir stepped back around, blocking Daxus' view of the plains.

" _Well_ , it doesn't look like we'll be _trudging_ through much of anything going _forward_. There's a nice _paved_ road that seems to lead _straight_ to Whiterun."

Daxus dropped his amber eyes to the ground for a moment, considering his friend's plan.

"You want to take the road to Whiterun?"

Hefaknir tilted his head to one side, his brows creasing slightly, "What else _would_ we take? And _why_?"

"We'd make better time if we cut straight through the plains. We'd also avoid any Legion patrols."

Hefaknir's face seemed to pinch some at Daxus' reasoning. "And we're avoiding _them_ because...?"

Schooled as he was in keeping his face impassive, Daxus couldn't help but frown deeply up at other man.

"We're deserters, Nir. They might be hunting us."

Hefaknir huffed and waved his hand dismissively. "Deserting was _your_ idea, so it's a plan that _can't_ fail. You covered _all_ our bases, _right_? More than _that_ , if someone _somehow_ manages to recognize us -"

"They'll kill me and drag you back to your father's estate," Daxus interjected grimly.

It was Hefaknir's turn to frown. He stepped forward, eyes painfully soft, and placed a hand on Daxus' shoulder, "They won't take me alive if you fall. I swear it."

The weight of Hefaknir's hand on his shoulder was as heavy as the solemnity in his voice, further accentuated by the lack of his usual sporadic emphasis. Daxus met the emerald stare and bit back more cynicism he knew Hefaknir wouldn't care to hear and would react worse to. Hefaknir was honest to a near deadly fault and, by the gods, was he too easy to read.

Daxus nodded once in acknowledgement and stood, starting towards the road, with every intention of going past it and into the plains. Readjusting his pack, Hefaknir quickly caught up beside him, slowing his long stride to match the pace Daxus set, and started whistling a jaunty tune that Daxus was sure every bear between them and Riften would hear.


	2. Around the Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're all trying to make sense of this.

Though the pair had set off across the plains in high spirits, the inertia of the traveling they had done thus far seemed to drag their pace further and further until they silently agreed to stop for the night. Between their time together as children and their experiences side-by-side in the Legion, the set up of camp was more a dance they knew all the steps to rather than something they needed to actively contemplate. 

Daxus handled the details and the minutiae that Hefaknir never bothered with - checking the water skins, scouting the area, laying out traps, mentally walking out the periphery of their temporary territory over and over again from all directions - while Hefaknir hefted one or another of his axes to gather wood, get a fire going, prepare the bed rolls, pitch a cover, and ask question after question of himself as to the nature of his own quest that he dragged his best friend into.

They had each settled into their respective positions for the night, Daxus oiling his leathers and buckles while Hefaknir mulled over his bottle of mead he procured seemingly out of nowhere. The fire was low to allow Daxus a better field of vision, which also allowed a decent amount of time before the venison was finished cooking - time which could be parsed into questions. 

"Why are we in Skyrim, Nir?"

Though the question came quietly, calmly, barely above a whisper (as that's all that was needed to be heard above the fire), Hefaknir still found himself swallowing his mead too quickly when he registered what was happening. He glanced at Daxus and was relieved to find the man's eyes studiously trained on the work in his hands. Daxus could be considerate when he wanted to be, which was rare, and he was apparently feeling generous now. 

Though, the fact that he agreed to come with Hefaknir at all with no explanation was ever more proof of his well-hidden empathy.

Hefaknir took a long pull of the sweet, cool, air of the plains and held it for a moment before answering.

"Do you... _remember_ my father mentioning my mother _at all_?"

Daxus paused in his repetitive motions to give the question his full consideration. Commander Cadirus had been as familiar to Daxus as his own father was. Such was the nature of their two families, one serving the other. Daxus stood beside Hefaknir for each of Cadirus' inspections, demands, recommendations, and vocal disappointments. The Commander had been highly respected by his men, his superiors, and his Emperor. The respect Cadirus bore well. The idolization Hefaknir had for his father, however, was borne with thinly veiled contempt. Daxus had always supposed it had something to do with the clearly Nordic mother of his friend, but Daxus made a lot of suppositions. 

He took up the motions of his work again.

The crux of the matter was that, no, Cadirus hadn't mentioned Hefaknir's mother. He always made it a point to avoid the issue - especially in front of the boys. Daxus' own father, Tannus, avoided it completely as well. 

"Not that I recall." 

"But you do _recall_ his last few _rantings_ , right?"

At this, Daxus stopped his work entirely and set his cuirass aside.

"Nir, if you're about to tell me that we defected from the Legion to go on some treasure hunt thought up by a dying madman regretting his one true love - " but as their eyes met, Daxus knew this not to be the case, and he felt a slight twinge of regret at his harsh, condescending tone.

Hefaknir was looking at him openly, plainly, and in a patient kind of pain. Daxus had become overly familiar with that look in the past few years - it arrived around the same time Cadirus started losing his mind. Hefaknir was, in Daxus' opinion, a strange kind of strong. He weathered his father's awfully unrealistic expectations without a tear shed or a smile dropped for nearly 20 years, but when the Commander was no longer the Commander, when he became something else, that look started coming about Hefaknir's features.

Hefaknir dropped his gaze to the fire and shifted his weight. "We kept _a lot_ of it hidden for as long as we _could_. By the end, I'm _sure_ you remember, there was just you and I in that great big estate. Along with him. And his... _insanity_."

Daxus nodded once, recalling the home that was not his, but was home anyway. Long, sparkling, white walls veined in gold and silver, banners in the deepest blue wreathed along the balconies and walkways, in gardens and the baths. The Cadirus Estate was almost palatial in scope and certainly was in wealth. An inheritance passed from father to son since the fall of the Ayleids. Daxus recalled how awe-inspiring it felt, the crowds thronging along the outer gate to shower the Commander with praise and gifts and put forth their daughters and horses and lands and coins for his consideration to, more or less, buy Hefaknir's line.

It was always most populated when Cadirus was returning from the Imperial City; He would be laden with gold and armors and weapons befitting kings but bestowed upon the latest in a long line of apparent military royalty.Then the gates would open and ladies and lords, servants and vassals, horses and dogs, merchants and artisans, would flood inside the inner compound in a flurry of silks and satin and gold. Wondrous to behold, easy to get lost in, but essential for Daxus to remain aware of - he was the blood-sworn protector of Hefaknir, after all, just as Tannus was to the Commander.

Daxus was always grateful it was Hefaknir and Masinian at the center of attention. He didn't think he could could have borne the Commander as a father as well as Hefaknir did. There was just so much attached to it all   
Daxus asked Tannus once why, if the Cadirus family was so well off they would be considered above even Counts, did the Commander and nearly all his fore-fathers continue to serve with the Legion. His father replied, rather cynically, that the Cadirus men seemed to love to make things more difficult than they needed to be.

It also had something to with the honor of serving their Empire in the best way they knew how, though that seemed to be more of Cadirus' explanation than Tannus'. 

In the end, though, it mattered little. 

All those people, all those victories and commendations, all that wealth and personal thanks from the Emperor, could not stave off the thing that ate at the Commander's mind. Rooms, pavilions, gardens, trellises, parapets, baths, every square meter of the Estate that had once been filled to the brim with life was, over the course of about four years, reduced to empty, deafening, silence, but for the howls of the Commander, shut up in his room.

It started with small incidents - the Commander forgetting orders at his camps, fits of misplaced rage, some general confusion - until eventually Cadirus was asked to retire early to his estates after a strategic snafu that ended up with most of his unit wiped out and him attempting to command the dead men to continue their fight like some inept necromancer. Tannus cared for the Commander's deteriorating mental health for about two years until he himself was killed in a hunting accident. The remaining staff of the estate dealt with their worsening Lord as well as they could, but the steward eventually petitioned to have Hefaknir and Daxus released from their tour to come home and do **something**.

The petition was granted on the condition that Hefaknir return to his retinue as soon as his father was handled. Hefaknir knew there was no handling Cadirus even when he was healthy - he was weathered. The madness was no different. Hefaknir dismissed most all the staff to their homes except for Daxus, who he asked to remain on the East side of the estate. 

He did what he could to prevent anyone from seeing just how far his father had fallen. More than that, he wanted to decipher the man's ramblings for anything of import. With his father's madness brimming, Hefaknir learned more about Cadirus' past than the man himself ever offered, and even more than he ever cared to - particularly when Masinius took to talking to phantoms that weren't there. Most importantly, for the first time in his life, Hefaknir learned a handful of personal things about his stone-willed father and enigmatic mother; Cadirus loved Hefaknir's mother deeply but regretted something about the terms they parted on, she was a priestess of Talos in Skyrim during the Great War, and her name was Ernaia.

Not three months ago, the sickness seemed to have taken all it could out of Cadirus. Layered deep in the silks on his sprawling bed, room heated to an uncomfortable swelter to stave off the chill he claimed was seeping through the stone, Cadirus called Hefaknir to his side and grasped his arm with a force that made Hefaknir wince.

He rambled on about the beauty of Skyrim and the horrors of the war, about the soaring peaks and blood-soaked ground beneath them, his eyes listlessly sweeping behind Hefaknir and back through him for what felt like hours before he seized, locked his dark eyes to Hefaknir's, and spat such curses about Ernaia that Hefaknir could hardly believe they had ever managed to conceive him.

"Don't leave. Don't look for her. Go back to your men. Your brothers. This is her. This was always her."

Hefaknir nodded but felt his stomach turn violently at this tone his father had taken. A barely-live voice scraping from the gut of a dead man.

"I'm not going anywhere, father." His own voice sounded far away and he was unsure if Cadirus even heard him. Granted, he had been unsure if his father even recognized him for longer than he cared to admit.

Cadirus' grip tightened and his nails dug into Hefaknir's forearm, nearly drawing blood.

"You swear it."

Hefaknir knew that tone - or, well - what that tone was _trying_ to be. It was _trying_ to be an order. It was _trying_ to muster some of the authority it carried in the highlight of it's life. But it was failing.

Hefaknir swallowed past a lump in his throat and covered his father's tightly-wound hand with his own free one. 

"I _do_ swear, father. I _promise_."

Even as the words left his mouth, Cadirus' posture relaxed, a relief spreading through the dying man to better effect than any healing magic had done.

A relief that underscored Hefaknir's own desire to find what had just been explicitly denied him. Cadirus had his own security in death, with his son by his side. Hefaknir felt that he would never achieve his own if he didn't attempt to find the woman that gave him life, that had given life meaning to his ever-guarded father, and who may be in need of answers herself.

If she still lived. 

Resolving himself to betray his father's dying wish, Hefaknir raised his eyes once more only find that Cadirus had passed, his grip still digging into the flesh of his forearm.

He found Daxus, said he was going to Skyrim, and asked him to make some arrangements with the Legion. Daxus' solution was simply to desert. Hefaknir didn't argue and Daxus didn't ask why they were leaving. 

Until now. 

Hefaknir downed a few gulps of mead to drag himself back to the present and finally get about to answering Daxus' patiently-posited question.

"He _was_ mad, but through _some_ of it, he was... _clear_. My mother is _here_ , somewhere, in Skyrim, alive or dead, and I _want_ to find her."

"Okay. But why, Nir?"

Hefaknir gripped his bottle of mead tighter and as he felt a familiar pang in his chest. It was a complicated answer, but one he had spent the last few months mulling over.

"There was no _knowing_ my father. I don't _know_ my father. He was _so_..." Hefaknir paused, trying to find the right word, the bottle in his hand tipped at a precarious angle.

"Distant?" Daxus offered. 

Hefaknir snorted and set his bottle down. "It feels _worse_ than just ' _distant_ ' but _sure_ , let's go with _that_. The point is that, in the end, when he _talked_ about my mother, _remembered_ her, _forgot_ I was there and where he was...he seemed _really_ alive. I didn't _recognize_ him. I don't want to claim my _birthright_ from someone who, I _now_ realize, I know no better than a _stranger_."

Daxus sighed and readied himself to be the voice of reason, to dash Hefaknir's hopes for the sake of common sense.

"You don't even know if she's alive. You don't know her name -"

"Ernaia."

"Her **family** name. You don't know how she'll react to you, to what's become of Cadirus, or if she'd even be willing to answer any questions you have. If her and Cadirus separated on such awful terms, she may hate **you** as much as he hated her."

Hefaknir's brows came together in a look of disbelief at Daxus' well-versed cynicism. "She's my _mother_ , Daxus, why would she take _any of that_ out on _me_? That's not what mothers _do_."

Daxus passed his hand across his forehead and took a breath. Hefaknir's naivete could be endearing, certainly, but not with this. Not now.

"You're idealizing someone you know next to nothing about. I'm not saying we shouldn't look for her - I mean, gods, we're already in Skyrim - I'm just saying you should scale back your expectations for...whatever it is you think will happen. You're just going to get hurt."

Hefaknir finished his mead and chucked the bottle over his tent.

"I'm not afraid of _hurt_. I can take it. What I _can't_ take, will be never having _tried_ before taking up my father's mantle and _undoubtedly_ dying in Cyrodiil _fighting_ the Dominion."

Daxus rolled his shoulders and moved to put his cuirass away. "Somewhere in between the mantle and the dying you're supposed to sort out a legitimate heir."

Hefaknir chuckled dryly and removed the venison from the fire. "So are you, _Cacula_ , lest my _bounding_ heirs have to take arrows to their _own_ chests."

Daxus smiled wryly at Hefaknir and accepted the portions of meat handed to him. They ate in companionable silence until Daxus took first watch and Hefaknir let the fire smolder before unceremoniously dropping onto his bedroll - but Daxus was acutely aware of the fact that Hefaknir remained awake for hours, his eyes to the stars. 


End file.
